It might not be an easy road.  She was prepared for obstacles.  But with Guy she was ready to face anything.  The adversity through which she had come had made the thought of physical hardship of very small account.  And deep in her innermost soul she had a strong, belief in her own ultimate welfare.  She was sure that she had done the right thing in thus striking out for herself, and she was equally sure that, whatever it might entail, she would not regret it in the end.

The lights were growing nearer.  She discerned the brick building of the station.  Over the wide stretch of land that yet intervened there came to her the smell of smoke and human habitation.  A warm thrill went through her.  In two minutes now—­in less—­the long five years’ separation would be over, and she would be clasping Guy’s hand again.

She leaned from the window, scanning the few outstanding houses of the town as the train ran past.  Then they were in the station, and a glare of light received them.

A crowd of unfamiliar faces swam before her eyes, and then—­she saw him.  He stood on the platform awaiting her, distinct from all the rest to her eager gaze—­a man of medium height, broader than she remembered, with a keen, bronzed face and eagle eyes that caught and held her own.

She sprang form the train almost before it shopped.  She held out both her hands to him.

“Guy!  Guy!”

Her voice came sobbingly.  He gripped the hands hard and close.

“So you’ve got here!” he said.

She was staring at him, her face upraised.  What was there about him that did not somehow tally with the Guy of her memory and her dreams?  He was older, of course; he was more mature, bigger in every way.  But she missed something.  There was no kindling of pleasure in his eyes.  They looked upon her kindly.  Ah, yes; but the rapture—­where was the rapture of greeting?

A sense of coldness went through her.  Her hands fell from his.  He had changed—­he had changed indeed!  His eyes were too keen.  She thought they held a calculating expression.  And the South African sun had tanned him almost bronze.  His chin had a stubbly look.  The Guy she had known had been perfectly smooth of skin.

She looked at him with a rather piteous attempt to laugh.  “I wonder I knew you at all,” she said, “with that hideous embryo beard.  I’m sure you haven’t shaved to-day.”

He put up a hand and felt his chin.  “No, I shaved yesterday,” he said, and laughed.  “I’ve been too busy to-day.”

That reassured her.  The laugh at least was like Guy, brief though it was.  “Horrid boy!” she said.  “Well, help me collect my things.  We’ll talk afterwards.”

He helped her.  He went into the carriage she had just left and pulled out all her belongings.  These he dumped on the platform and told her to wait while he collected the rest.